The Beggar King
by the shattered star
Summary: SPOILERS. The events that occur after Arthur banishes Gwen in Lancelot du Lac. Enjoy!
1. The Begger King

He could feel her body pressed up against his and he sighed contentedly. He turned and ran a finger up and down her exposed shoulder, chuckling when he felt her move closer to him. "I should go before they start looking for me," he whispered as she turned to face him. She opened her eyes and sighed.

"Will you come back tomorrow?" she asked, her eyes glinting.

"I shall try," he said, kissing her forehead. "The duties of being King," he quipped, laughing.

"Oh, poor dear," she replied, kissing his mouth softly. "If it helps, the challenges to being a witch are many…" Arthur frowned, confused.

"A witch, Guinevere?" He sat up in fright as she smiled suggestively. Before his eyes, her nut-brown skin bubbled until it was almost translucent; her eyes glowed and her entire body trembled. Arthur reached for his sword, but found that he could not move; his blood had frozen and his eyes were transfixed upon the sight in front of him.

"Strange, Arthur," a soft, lilting voice commented, "I would think you would recognise your own sister!" She laughed: an unpleasant, grating noise.

"No," Arthur whispered. "No, no…"

"Oh, but yes. And wasn't last night absolutely _wonderful?_" Morgana asked, breaking into a new fit of laughter.

As they rode through the streets, flowers rained down upon them; pink, purple and white snowflakes. The king stopped now and then to receive one from a maiden, doing his best to smile. He kept telling himself that they were not riding out to their doom, rather, to their victory, but he knew that was not true. The chances of his return to Camelot were slim indeed, and his people understood that well.

Arthur's head snapped up as he felt a tug on his horse's reigns. "What do you think you're—"

"'Tis only I," a maid's voice rang out. She was cloaked and hooded, but Arthur would know that voice anywhere. "Pray, do not speak my name," she whispered. "But know that I wish for your safe return. I will always love you." The woman curtseyed low and vanished amidst the crowd, leaving a dumbstruck Arthur. Someone pulled on his horse's reigns and the slow trot of the knights continued.

"Wait, I—" but he fell silent upon realizing that he could not go back. The crowd had all ready built up behind him and he knew there was no way he would be able to find her now. "I love you too," he breathed to no one.

He galloped all the way there, allowing neither his horse nor himself any rest. There was no question in his mind; he would get there in time. He would not allow for any other outcome. He dismounted swiftly and thrust his horse's reigns into a stable boy's hands. He threw open the door of the inn and shouted, "Where is she? I must see her!" The innkeeper seemed fairly shocked at receiving a visitor this early in the morning and he took a moment to answer the king's concerns.

"Sir, if you need a room, I would be more than happy to—"

"Where is she?" Arthur demanded, his hand encircling the innkeeper's throat.

"Of whom do you speak?" the man squeaked out. Arthur's grip tightened and the man gurgled before managing to croak, "upstairs!" Arthur let go immediately and flew up the steps. He could hear her before he could see her.

There was no hesitation as he pushed open the door and stepped inside. "Guinevere," he breathed, horrified at her condition. She was pale and sweating; there was a bucket at the side of her bed into which she had just retched.

"Arthur," she gasped, her lips parted in shock. "How did you—" She stumbled out of bed and almost careened into him. He wrapped his arms around her and she buried her head in his chest. "I cannot believe I am touching you," she rasped into his chain mail.

"I am here, my love," Arthur said, resisting the urge to cry. He kissed the top of her head and picked her up, cradling her in his arms. He laid her on the bed and quickly pulled off his chain mail and boots. He pulled the blanket over her and laid next to her, saying nothing, tracing the contours of her face in wonder. She, in turn, remained still, but moved her gaze along his face, trying to memorize everything about him.

"Please don't leave," she whispered. A hacking cough overtook her and she turned to the bucket to relieve herself. There were tears streaming down her face when she turned back to him.

"I should never have—"

"Don't, Arthur, please," Guinevere begged. "Please, just let me stay here with you!"

"I am sorry, my love," he said. Gwen reached out a finger and wiped the tears from his face.

"There is nothing for which to apologise," she said, smiling slightly. "Only, say you will find me, wherever I may go. Please, do not leave me as you did then."

"I vow to follow you," Arthur promised, kissing her mouth, even though it was hot and tasted of bile.

"No, don't!" she shrieked as he waded out into the lake. She coughed and spluttered, trying desperately to keep her head above the water. Arthur paid her words no attention, continuing to swim towards her. "Arthur, please, just listen to me; if you come any closer it'll kill you!" Arthur said nothing. "Arthur, listen to me!"

"I will after you're safe!" Arthur shouted, approaching her flailing form. She was slipping back into the water, tears running down her face. Finally, he reached out his hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, treading water.

"You must go," she insisted weakly. "Please."

"Do you honestly think I'd go without you?" Arthur asked, pulling her gently towards the shore. He thought he felt something catch on his foot, but he kicked it off, doing his best to ignore it. He swam as rapidly as he could, but whatever was following him was faster. He felt his head being forced under water, he heard Guinevere scream and he knew no more.

His tray made a scraping noise as it was pushed into his cell. Mouldy bread and stale water for the third time. The king finally swallowed his pride and ate it down, hunger getting the best of him. He still didn't know who was holding him captive, and the fact that it had been three days made him even more anxious.

He knew he would go mad form boredom if something did not happen soon. The guard at his door did not speak at all and the king was starting to think he was mute. He comforted himself in knowing that someone would have to question him at some point, or he wouldn't be kept alive.

Just as he was contemplating shouting at the guard until he answered, the cell door was opened and the guard escorted him out. The king was marched to a separate chamber where a cloaked and hooded figure waited for him. The figure waved the guard out, its face still turned away from Arthur.

"You're probably wondering why you've been brought here," the figure said, moving towards a window opposite Arthur.

"Yes, seeing as I haven't been told anything," Arthur said sternly.

"Honestly, I have no idea. I suppose I wanted you to be taken away from everything you know," the figure commenced, turning towards Arthur and stepping closer to him. "I wanted you to feel the pain you bestowed upon another many years ago. I would be surprised if you still recognised me, actually." Arthur knew that the figure was a woman, but he couldn't quite place whom.

The woman slowly lowered her hood and Arthur inhaled sharply. She was his Gwen, there was no mistaking it, but she was somehow different. Her eyes were ice cold and her face was altogether stonier than it used to be. Something had happened to her, something that had changed her.

"What happened to you, Gwen?" Arthur asked quietly after recovering from the shock of seeing her once more.

"Nothing you don't know about."

"I—" Arthur fell to his knees, horrified by the sudden realization of what he had done. "I can't…"

"Guard!" Guinevere called out. The man returned promptly. "Escort our guest out of the castle, if you please. We are finished here."

"No, please—"

"Ah, but Arthur," she said, tracing his jaw line with one sharp finger, "don't you see? I intend on making you suffer as you made me. We shan't meet again," she stated, turning her back on him once more after snatching her hand away from his face.

"No… No, you can't do this!" Arthur protested as the guard pulled him away. He struggled, but in his weakened state he was hardly more of a threat to the guard than a starving peasant. "I will always love you," he whispered.

He gasps and is suddenly afraid to move, afraid to breathe. He cannot feel anything for a moment, too disturbed by the thoughts and images running through his head: Morgana lying beside him, Gwen's cruel smile after she ordered him away, a purple flower floating in the air. He hardly understands what he has done.

The world moves by him and barely touches him, leaving nothing but traces of dawn behind it. The king shivers in his bed and slowly pulls his legs from under myriad furs. He stands, but falls back to his bed almost immediately. He shakes his head and pulls on a shirt and clumsily lights the fire. He freezes when a voice says, "Well, I am a blacksmith's daughter…" He turns slowly to look behind him, but he finds himself alone in his chambers. Of course he is; why would someone be in the king's chambers at this hour?

The king drags a seat over to the fire and attempts to warm his hands. He is exhausted but absolutely refuses to let himself fall asleep. All that will bring is more nightmares, more memories. He cannot keep living like this; it has only been one day since she left his sight and he already regrets his decision. If he is completely honest, he regretted his decision the moment she left the throne room. He can only try to forget what he said, what he did to her there. He rationalizes everything by not thinking about it, but now he knows he cannot do this for long. Eventually, he will shatter.

Had he forgotten everything good and beautiful about her? Her laugh, her warm touch, her ability to find good in everything, they way she looked at him, the way she said his name… She had waited for him for years, and this is what he did to repay her.

He is starting to think it would have been better if he had something to drown out his thoughts, something to dull the pain, when his door is carefully opened and closed neatly behind a dark figure. Arthur stands, upsetting the chair. His eyes widen in the fading early light, trying to make the figure out.

"You're up early," comes a mildly surprised voice.

"Oh, it's only you," Arthur says, disappointedly. He kneels to right the seat, then thinks better of it.

"Who did you—" Merlin is cut off by a glare from his king. "Ah, I see."

Though he will never admit it, Arthur is glad of an interruption. He clears his throat in an effort to fill the silence, then coughs. "I see you didn't bring my breakfast," he says.

"No, I—"

"It is fine. I shall need you to pack it anyhow."

"Pack it? Why— OH!" Merlin fairly shouts. He winks at Arthur and makes an almost comical effort to be subtle. "Shall I prepare our horses, then?"

"No, Merlin. I have to find her alone," the king says with finality. Merlin bows and exits the king's chambers, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts. He cannot imagine what he will say to her when he finds her. He decides to think about that when he comes to it. Hopefully, somehow, she will find a way to forgive him.

He busies himself preparing; after all, he does not know how long he will be away. Perhaps not the most responsible thing for a king to be doing, but that thought cannot stop him now. Besides, Gwen was always the one with a sense of duty.

He packs and prepares himself in less than an hour, knowing that the longer he delays, the further away she will be. As he mounts his horse, he looks at Merlin for a moment.

"Good luck, my lord." Arthur resists the temptation to shiver; he gets nervous when Merlin actually refers to him by his accepted title.

"Thank you, Merlin," he replies. He has nothing more to say, his thoughts too occupied with her. Without another word, he kicks his mount into a brisk trot and makes his way towards her.


	2. Wanderer

She knows she will never truly leave the Throne Room. She is inside it, even now, trying to think of a way to fix everything, to make everything better. She never dreamed he would do this to her; she never dreamed she would do such a thing to _him._But it did happen. And now there is nothing she can do.

She has been dubbed 'The Wanderer,' destined forever to travel, never being able to actually live anywhere. Some ridicule her and call her names. Some throw her sympathetic glances. And yet others whisper words of encouragement to her: _"__Here,__love,__take__something__to__eat,__" "__He__is__just__like__his__father,__" "__Sleep__here__tonight.__" _She does not yet know whom she hates the most. The sympathetic ones mean well, she knows, but they whisper things amongst themselves behind her back. Perhaps it is better to be yelled at than to be whispered about.

She never stays in one place for more than a week. Even if it kills her, she vows to keep moving, never thinking too much. She mostly keeps to herself when she stays in a town, now and then helping farmers or blacksmiths to earn her keep, but it never lasts.

She had put together the pieces long ago. She knew that there was some sort of magic in the bracelet, something that made her inexplicably drawn to him. Everything made sense after that, including Lancelot's death. She did not even weep, feeling too horrible to do so much as think about what that meant.

Time is almost nonexistent in her world. Seven sunrises pass, she moves on. Someone recognises her before the week is out and she moves on. She has now acquired a horse, so her back does not ache as much as it used to in the beginning. She does not allow herself time to think, for she feels somehow wrong about her feelings about him. She does not blame him in the slightest. She would go back to him in a heartbeat, she wouldn't even be upset with him. But who was this person? Surely, this subservient _thing_was not Gwen? She can neither explain it nor deny it, but the only thing she feels about him is longing. If she could see him again, even for an instant, she was sure it would be enough to make everything clear and go home with him.

She had dreams now and then about what could have been.

_Gwen awoke with a frantic look in her eyes, convinced she had slept in and would be late to the kitchens. She threw off her blanket and was all ready half way across the room when she felt a cold chill and realized where she was. She smiled to herself and tiptoed back into bed, being careful not to wake him._

_She tried to get back to sleep, but was too giddy. She had never let her body claim as much sleep as it wanted; the life of a servant didn't allow it. She finally gave up and opened her eyes, shifting in her nightgown. She turned to her king and giggled as a snore left his throat. She used her finger to trace the contours of his muscled back. She carefully sat up and leaned over him, gently brushing his hair off of his cheek, which was difficult, considering the fact that he was sleeping on his stomach, head turned to the side, left arm dangling off the bed. She remembered the first time she had ever slept in a room with him. "You snored so loudly I thought a pig had gotten in," she whispered, smiling to herself._

_Eventually she leaned down so that her lips were directly above his ear and breathed, "good morning, husband." Arthur stirred and, with great effort, dragged his arm back onto the bed and, with a grunt, turned onto his back. Gwen laughed quietly at his attempts to resist waking. "You'll have to get up sometime," she said, cupping his cheek with her hand. Slowly, lazily, his eyes opened and his jaw cracked as he let out a long yawn. He reached out with his hand to tug her nightdress toward him. She found her body a hair's breadth away from his and he smiled._

"_Who says?" _

"_Are you planning on spending your first day as a married man in bed all day?" she asked, running her finger up and down his cheek._

"_That is exactly what I plan on doing, my lady," he replied, seizing her waist to shift her weight so that she was lying next to him. She, in turn, buried her face in his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing tightly._

"_Aren't you going to ask what I'd like to do?" she asked, laughing._

"_Pray, tell," he said, kissing the top of her head._

"_Nothing at all," she replied, lifting her head to look him in the eye._

That was as far as she ever got. She always woke before she was able to finish her dream; something in her mind did not let her observe the whole day.

Today she woke at the crack of dawn, and, leaving a small pouch of coins at the door, left the family she had been staying with. She was only in the small town of Hull for three days; people had started asking questions, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they found out who she was. She was far from Camelot now, but word, especially word concerning Camelot, travelled quickly.

Gwen picked a direction in which to go next and set off, kicking her horse into a slow trot. Her wagon of possessions had grown even smaller, and now consisted of clothing, meagre provisions, a few choice pieces of jewellery and the weapons she had acquired. She carried on her person a bow, a quiver of arrows and a sword. Those were all her things; she travelled light, knowing that she could have to run at any moment.

As she eyed the setting sun, she dismounted and decided to set up her camp for the night. She was used to the forest stretches by now; the only way she prevented herself from thinking was gripping her horse so tightly that her calves and thighs ached by the end of the day. She tied the horse to a tree and set up a fire pit in a relatively dry spot.

She knew she would have to eat eventually, so after getting everything prepared, she left her campsite to find something for her dinner. She had been picking berries and eating greens, and she was in desperate need of meat. She decided a squirrel would do. She curled up beside a tree and watched it closely for signs of movement. Just as she thought she saw one, she saw something even bigger moving in the distance. Immediately she pulled out an arrow and strung her bow with effort. She had to admit that she felt ten times more comfortable with a sword than an unreliable arrow, but a sword could not shoot her dinner from a tree.

She pulled herself up into a squatting position and concentrated on trying to make out whatever was coming towards her in the fading light. She shot as soon as she found something to shoot at. A terrible cry came from the general direction of her arrow and she gasped, not having thought that the thing she was shooting could have been a person instead of a wild boar.

"Oh no," she muttered, approaching the fallen figure. "I beg your pardon; I did not see you!" she said, hesitantly rounding the tree behind which the person had fallen. It had only just occurred to her that she may have shot a bandit. Who else would be wandering a forest at this time of night? She slowly drew her sword, temporarily ignoring the moans of pain issuing from the person.

She jumped behind the tree in an effort to surprise whoever had snuck up on her and screamed upon seeing the man's face. Her sword fell from her hands and she raised them to her mouth, not being able to believe what she was seeing.

"Guinevere!" Arthur choked out, clutching his leg in pain. He attempted to stand, but fell. Gwen pulled his arm around her shoulder and led him back to her campsite, not saying a word. She lay him gently down in front of the fire pit and frowned as she looked at the wound she had inflicted upon him.

She grasped the head of the arrow and looked into his eyes. There was no need for words; he reached out for a piece of firewood she had collected and squeezed it tightly in his fists. Working as quickly as she could, Gwen snapped off the tip of the arrow and pulled it from his thigh. She winced in pain as he grunted. "Done," she said quietly. She used all the water she had left in her provision to clean the wound and finally tore a long scrap of cloth from her tunic and wrapped it around the wound, tying it tightly. "That's all I can do, for now," she said, biting her lip in worry. "Try to sleep. We shall ride for Camelot at dawn." Without another word, she turned from him to retrieve her sword.

She couldn't think about why he was here; she _wouldn__'__t!_She would return him to Camelot in the morning and leave before anyone could find her. She refused to think, she refused to think, she refused to think— had he been looking for her? Why had it taken him so long? She wasn't asking for his forgiveness; she neither deserved nor wanted any, surely he knew that. She picked up her sword and remembered the innocence of the first time he kissed her. Why couldn't things be as simple now as they were then? _Because__you__lied__to__him._The words left a black stain in her mind and she could not escape them.

Upon her return to the campsite, she saw a bright fire had been lit. "I think I'm improving," the king said, smiling at her. He had used a tree to prop himself up, now leaning against it for support. He stumbled towards her and she caught him in her arms, a smile upon her face. "That's better," he said, caressing her face with his fingertips. "I thought you had forgotten how to speak as well as smile!"

Gwen couldn't help the tears that fell from her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered raggedly. "I think I was enchanted, I really do! He gave me a bracelet the day before and I think—" A sob ripped through her body and she fell into her king's arms. He gently pulled her to the forest floor, stretching his leg out, offering it what little relief he could. He pulled her close to him and she buried her head in his chest, soaking it with her tears.

"I came to find you because I was wrong, Gwen," he said quietly. "We cannot spend the rest of our lives blaming ourselves." This just made her sob even harder and she couldn't understand a word he was saying. He rocked her in his arms and let her cry, saying nothing.

When she finally emerged, her eyes were red in the firelight and her hair had fallen down to rest upon her shoulders. "I shall take you to Camelot, and I shall leave," she croaked.

"No, you will take me to Camelot and you will stay with me," Arthur said, a tone of desperation entering his voice. "I cannot— I _will__not_lose you again," he said.

"I cannot, you know I cannot!" Gwen protested, pulling away from him. "You were right to send me away, my lord."

"No, I wasn't. Gwen, you are the future Queen of Camelot, and you always will be because I cannot have another woman beside me. You have no idea how much I regret what I said then…"

"I think I can imagine," Gwen replied, a sad smile upon her face.

"If you refuse to come back with me, we… We shall run away! Just like we always wanted to, Gwen, you and I!"

"I will not let you desert your people," Gwen said firmly, moving slightly away from him. "I am not more important than they are."

"But you are to me!" Arthur insisted. He closed the gap between them with some difficulty, and kissed her mouth gently. "You are important to me," he whispered. She hesitated only a second before leaning forward and kissing him. Her kiss turned out to be rougher, coarser than his. He fell upon his back and she knelt above him, wrapping her arms around his torso. She was breathing raggedly when she pulled away. Her head collapsed onto his shoulder and she lay beside him, curving her body to fit against his. "We cannot be separated, Guinevere," Arthur said, kissing her forehead softly.

"I know," she whispered. She had to go back with him; she could not leave him now! After tasting his mouth again, after feeling his arms around her, she could not go back to her solitary, vagabond life. "I shall go with you," she vowed, biting her lip again. Now it was not Arthur that worried her; it was the people of Camelot. "But Camelot won't understand."

"I don't care. My country should come first, I know that, but you know it doesn't," Arthur stated. "Just… Come back with me, and we shall make decisions one at a time."

"That sounds nice," Gwen replied quietly. She could not repress the growing fear that the people would never truly accept her after what she had done, but Arthur was right. She had to go back home. "Thank you for finding me," she whispered.

"I could say the same to you," Arthur replied, smiling at her. He pulled her close and eyed the now roaring fire. "Sleep now; I'll keep watch."

She kissed him softly. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," Arthur replied, kissing her forehead. "Now sleep." She fetched a blanket, curled up against him and sighed as he wrapped an arm around her sleeping form. Perhaps now she could actually allow herself to think.

**A/N I don't like this one as much as the first, but you let me know what you think. There may be a third part, but I'm not sure as of now. Reviews are welcome, as always. Thanks for reading! Bisous ~ the shattered star**


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